The Water Runs Deep Here

This section of the story highlights Ran Jiuyi’s professional life as an elite operative and the chaotic, domestic reality of life with the “Little Three.”

Translation: Deep Water and Family Dramas

“Since you’ve made up your mind, I’ll get to work on polishing your files. Any specific requests?”

Despite her initial warnings, Kifli had agreed to Ran Jiuyi’s request. She knew her old friend well enough to know that every choice Jiuyi made was preceded by careful deliberation.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Ran Jiuyi said. “For education, just a decent university degree will do. Then add two or three years of clerical work plus some freelance experience.”

“That shouldn’t be hard; I can have it ready today. But have you thought about one thing? Does your age match up?”

Reminded by Kifli, Ran Jiuyi realized her mistake. When they had first prepared the fake identity, they had kept her real name and age—24—for convenience.

“I forgot about that. If I graduated university, I’d be 22 or 23. That doesn’t leave much time for a work history.”

“Tell you what, skip the degree. I never went to university anyway. Just make me a high school grad who went straight into the workforce.”

“Glad to see you still remember you’re a dropout,” Kifli quipped, noting the changes. “Anything else?”

“Actually, yes. Patch me through to the client, C65. I have some questions.”

Something about this commission felt off. Kifli knew that unless something unexpected and vital had occurred, Ran Jiuyi rarely contacted a client directly. Her voice turned serious. “Understood. I’m connecting you now. Jiuyi… stay sharp.”

“I know, I know. You’ve said it a thousand times. Don’t worry, I don’t die easily.”

The line clicked. After a moment, the synthetic voice of C65 spoke: “Do you have an inquiry regarding the mission?”

Ran Jiuyi didn’t waste breath on pleasantries. “What exactly does the serum you want me to collect do? And why is it mandatory to eliminate the user?”

C65’s voice remained as flat as ever. “Miss Ran, the information provided at the start of the commission has been deemed sufficient. I am not authorized to disclose further details regarding the serum’s properties.”

“If you wish to obtain this information, please provide a sufficiently compelling reason.”

Ran Jiuyi had expected this. These droids were nothing but stubborn, soulless logic-gates. She was ready.

“I’ve tracked Ken the Werewolf through several cities. He showed no signs of using or selling the serum. But the moment he arrived in this city, he handed over five out of seven vials as payment to a local boss just to get inside.”

“Do you realize what that means? It means the serum is no longer vital to him. He’s discarding excess baggage and using it to stall me.”

“Yet, he kept two vials. I suspect three possible scenarios.”

“First: The serum no longer works on him, and he’s just keeping them as bargaining chips. But if they were useless, he wouldn’t have stolen them in the first place. Low probability.”

“Second: He’s found a way to synthesize it. He could be mass-producing it. That would explain everything. However, if my memory serves, there are no legitimate large-scale pharmaceutical or chemical plants in this city.”

Her implication was clear: Ken was working with an illegal underground organization—one that an outsider like Ran Jiuyi would never have found on her own.

“Third: He has already used those two vials to strike a deal with an entity I don’t know about. And that deal is either nearing completion or already done; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so careless with the other five.”

“Of these three, the latter two are the most likely—and the most dangerous. An unknown enemy is the hardest to fight. You catch my drift?”

C65 fell silent, presumably processing the data. “Your hypothesis is plausible. However, I judge that it is still insufficient to warrant a breach of protocol. Your claims are merely speculative; they have not yet manifested.”

This robot was even more of a brick wall than she’d imagined. “Let me ask you this: Are you the one who makes the final calls?”

“No. C65 is merely a communications interface.”

“Then let me ask another: Shouldn’t a potentially catastrophic scenario be reported to your superior? Do you even have the authority to make a final decision on this?”

Ran Jiuyi’s words triggered a much longer silence. Just as she thought the droid had short-circuited and hung up, C65 responded:

“Miss Ran, I had not accounted for that variable. I have just consulted with the primary supervisor for this commission.”

“They have agreed to your request. However, since we are not the original developers of the serum, we must obtain their consent before disclosing the data to you.”

What a massive pain in the neck, Ran Jiuyi thought, her patience fraying. “So I just have to sit and wait?”

“Correct. Please wait patiently. I will respond as quickly as possible.”

The line went dead.

Ran Jiuyi looked at her silent phone and shook her head. If she’d known this was going to be such a headache, she never would have taken the job.

Deftly, she pried the receiver from the back of the phone and pressed it back into the wound in her neck. As her flesh churned and healed, the injury vanished without a trace.

Well, nothing to do but cook.

……

“Dinner’s ready! Come and get it, I made a feast today!”

Her usual call went unanswered. Are they still talking since Meng Shan finally woke up? she wondered.

She pushed open the door to Meng Shan’s room. “Time for food, time for— wait… what the hell is going on here?”

In the room, Jiang Yunshu was curled up on the bed, hugging Meng Shan’s left arm with a blissful expression, fast asleep.

Beside them, Yi Ziling was still sobbing quietly, mumbling a continuous stream of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Bai He’an, the most stable of the trio, was trying to comfort her, though her exasperated expression suggested she was getting nowhere.

And in the middle of it all was Meng Shan, looking utterly defeated. Trapped by Yunshu’s grip and still weak from his injuries, he clearly lacked the strength to manage these three troublemakers.

Seeing Ran Jiuyi, he called out desperately, “You see this?! Get over here and help me!”

Ran Jiuyi studied the scene for a moment before whispering, “They’re still minors, right? I mean, they might be physically developed, but isn’t it a bit early for… that? At least wait a few years.”

“What are you thinking?!” Meng Shan snapped. “Do I look like the kind of person who’d do that?! And why is your mind even going there? Your head must be filled with nothing but trashy novels!”

Ran Jiuyi took another look. “Based on my years of experience, this looks like the aftermath of a ‘group scene.'”

“Faced with someone’s overwhelming ‘authority,’ Jiang Yunshu was the first to fall, comfortably enjoying the pleasure of the moment.”

“Timid little Yi Ziling was terrified by what she saw, unable to believe her kind big brother had turned into such a beast. Now she can’t stop crying.”

“As for Bai He’an—”

Before she could finish her “fan-fiction” summary, Bai He’an cut her off. She couldn’t listen to another word of Ran Jiuyi’s nonsense.

“Be serious for a second. Ziling is just overwhelmed. Seeing Brother Dashan awake made her lose control of her emotions; she’ll be fine in a bit.”

“And Yunshu missed her last exam. Today was her retake, and she stayed up way too late studying. She’s just exhausted.”

“Then why is she death-gripping his arm?” Ran Jiuyi asked.

“Because she always hugs something when she sleeps. When we went on a trip together, she had to bring her own body pillow.”

Bai He’an’s clinical explanation sucked the fun out of the situation. “Fine, fine. When are you coming to eat? I made all your favorites. It’ll be gross if it gets cold.”

At the mention of food—especially her favorites—the “sleeping” Jiang Yunshu bolted upright, her eyes glowing with intensity. “Is dinner ready? I’m going!”

She wasn’t one to eat alone, either. She grabbed Yi Ziling as she left.

“Alright, alright, Crybaby Ziling, let’s go eat. Food comes first, everything else comes second!”

Ignoring the fact that Yi Ziling was still sniffing, she dragged her by the wrist toward the dining table. Bai He’an followed closely behind, worried the two would trip and fall.

“Careful, you two! Don’t run!”

The noisy room suddenly fell quiet. Ran Jiuyi looked at Meng Shan. “Well? Can you walk on your own?”

“I think so.” Having regained some strength and with the pain dulling, Meng Shan stood up with a bit of effort. He took a few steps; they were shaky, but he stayed upright.

Ran Jiuyi nodded and moved to steady him when he wobbled. “Recovering faster than I thought. You’ll be moving normally by tomorrow morning.”

“I hope so. But next time, I’d prefer it if you helped me keep those three in line.”

“Depends on my mood.”